Secrets
by dawn341
Summary: First season story. Tessa has amnesia and decides that there are a lot of secrets - especially about Duncan - that she must learn about


Secrets by Dawn Cunningham

Disclaimers:

The characters mentioned in the story belong to Rysher. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

This story is a first season story that takes place before Eyewitness.

* HL * * HL * * HL * * HL *

Secrets by Dawn Cunningham

It had all happened so fast.

One minute she'd been walking down the street, heading for her car. The next minute, she felt someone make a grab for her purse. Instinctively, she clutched at it, but her attacker was stronger than she was. She was dragged forward several steps before the purse strap broke. She went crashing to the sidewalk, throwing out her hands to try to save herself, to no avail. The last thing she remembered was the blinding pain as her head connected forcibly with the sidewalk.

* HL * HL *

Duncan MacLeod carried in the heavy box filled with antiques he'd bought at an auction earlier that day, and set it down on the floor of Tessa's workshop. Dusting off his hands, he continued on to the antique store, looking for the Frenchwoman. Instead, he found a disgruntled teenager.

"Hey, Richie," he greeted the young man. "I thought you had plans this afternoon."

"I *did*," Richie Ryan grumbled. "But Tessa must have gotten so caught up in shopping that she forgot to watch the time.

Duncan glanced at his watch. Tessa had planned to be home before lunch, which was almost two hours ago. It wasn't like her to be that late, especially since she knew Richie had plans for that afternoon.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure whatever is delaying her is something important. I can take over if you want to take off."

"It's too late now. I might as well work the rest of the day."

"Are you sure?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, but I wish she'd called to let me know that she was going to be late."

Duncan struggled to hide his grin. That had been the same comment Tessa had used when Richie had been late for dinner a few nights earlier. "I'll have a talk with her," he managed to say with a straight face.

Richie's own mouth twitched at that. "You do that. A little courtesy goes a long way," he said, repeating another one of Tessa's favorite complaints. He changed the subject to a more pressing matter. "Mac, do I really *have* to go to this art thingy of Tessa's? It's not exactly my idea of a good time."

"Yes, you *have* to go. You promised Tessa you would. In fact, she's probably already bought you some special clothes to wear to it."

"Oh, maaaaaan..." The very thought sent shudders through him. Who knew what Tessa might bring home.

"Richie, this is a very special event for Tessa. You know I have to be in New York and I can't be there with her, but you can be. You wouldn't want her to be alone, would you?"

"I guess not," Richie paused for a moment, then glared at the Scot. "But I'm not wearing a penguin suit!"

Duncan laughed. "You won't have to. You don't even have to stay for the full time. All you have to do is go and show your support of her for a little while. That's all."

"I'll go, but I know I won't enjoy myself," Richie griped.

A customer came into the store and the young man went over to talk to her. Duncan returned to his car to continue unloading it.

Two hours later, Tessa still hadn't returned.

* HL * HL *

Her head hurt. That was her first conscious thought. Her second was that the light being flashed in her eyes wasn't helping at all. She reached up a hand to brush it away. Before she reached the irritation, another hand held hers down. A moment later, the light was shut off.

"Can you hear me?"

The man's voice slowly filtered through her pounding head. It took even longer for the words to make sense. "Oui," she replied, as she tried to open her eyes again. She finally succeeded, and took in her surroundings.

She was lying on some kind of table or bed in a room filled with medical equipment. Two people were leaning over her. The man looked like he was in his thirties, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a lab coat over a red shirt. The woman was older, maybe in her fifties, with dark brown hair and eyes. She was dressed in a white uniform, and had a cap on her head.

"Ou suis-je?" she asked in some confusion.

The man and woman exchanged glances. "Do you speak English?" the woman asked.

English? It took a few moments for her to realize she'd spoken in French. "Yes. Where am I?" she tried again, this time in English.

"You're at St. Mary's hospital," the man answered. "I'm Doctor Milford. Can you tell me your name?"

She opened her mouth to reply, only to realize she didn't know the answer. Confusion and anxiety flooded through her. "I do not know! What is wrong with me?"

"Take it easy," the doctor soothed her. "You have a concussion. Sometimes that causes a little amnesia. Do you know what year it is?"

That sounded like a stupid question. If she didn't know her own name, how could she know what year it was? "No."

"All right. What is the last thing you can remember?"

She really tried, but there was nothing there. "I cannot remember anything. Who am I? What happened to me?"

"According to witnesses, you tangled with a purse snatcher," the nurse explained. "Unfortunately, you didn't have any identification on you. It was probably in your purse, but that was stolen."

"Don't worry," the doctor added. "Usually, amnesia is only temporary in these cases. For now, we're going to send you down to x-ray. We need to see if you have a skull fracture, as well as take some pictures of your wrist. You may have broken it when you fell."

She suddenly became aware that her left wrist was throbbing. Both of her palms and knees were also stinging. But nothing compared to the pounding of her head.

"Can I have something for the pain? My head hurts very badly."

"Not right now. First, let's see how serious your head wound is. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"My wrist. My hands. My knees. Everything hurts."

"That's not surprising. You've lost quite a bit of skin on your hands and knees. Can you move your arms and legs?"

It hurt, but she followed the doctor's orders. He seemed satisfied.

"All right. You're off to x-ray. I'll be back to see you once you're done there." The doctor and nurse both left the room.

She took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. To be quite honest, she was scared. It was terrifying not knowing who she was. She didn't even know what she looked like. Was she married? Did she have children? Where did she live?

The nurse returned, along with two other men dressed in white. A few moments later, they rolled her bed out of the room. The lights passing overhead made her dizzy and she shut her eyes.

* HL * HL *

"Where do you think she is?" Richie asked as he paced around the living room. "Something must have happened to her."

Duncan was thinking the same thing, but tried to relieve the young man's anxieties. "She probably ran into an old friend and forgot time." He had his own theory-one that involved another Immortal-but didn't want to voice it.

Richie stopped and looked directly at Duncan. "Yeah, right." He paused for a moment. "Do you think someone grabbed her to get at you?" He looked disturbed by the idea.

Realizing that Richie might be recalling his ordeal at the hands of Walter Reinhardt, Duncan placed a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "I don't know. I hope not."

"Maybe we should call the cops."

Knowing the young man's lack of trust for anything that even resembled a police officer, Duncan was somewhat surprised at the suggestion. He shook his head. "If it is another Immortal, I can't bring the police in. I'm going to go take a look around. I know her favorite shopping places. If I can locate her car, I might be able to find something out."

"I'll come with you," Richie stated.

"No, I need you to stay here, just in case someone calls." He recognized the stubborn look on the young man's face. "It's important, Richie. I'll keep checking in to see if you've heard anything."

Duncan grabbed his coat, checking to be sure his katana was nestled safely inside, and headed for his T-bird. It took him almost an hour of driving around to various shopping districts in Seacouver before he found Tessa's Mercedes.

He quickly checked out the car, but could find nothing wrong. There were several bags from various stores in the trunk, but none from this area. All the shops had closed for the day, and he knew he wouldn't be able to find any answers until they reopened in the morning.

Disappointed, he headed for home. Maybe Richie had heard something.

* HL * HL *

There was no news when Duncan got back to the antique store. Richie had rushed to greet him with a hopeful look on his face that quickly changed to dismay when only the Scot came through the door.

"I found the car, but there's no sign of Tessa."

"So, you think another Immortal took her?"

"There's been no phone call?"

Richie shook his head. "Nothing." He paused for a moment. "What if it wasn't another Immortal? Maybe we should call the cops."

Duncan was tempted. He would do whatever was needed to get Tessa back, safe and sound, but it went against all his instincts. Still, if it had been another Immortal, surely he would have been contacted by now. "All right. I'll call the police."

* HL * HL *

After an almost endless stretch of time, she was finally settled into a bed. She'd been poked and prodded and x-rayed. Her knees and hands had been cleaned, and her left wrist had been encased in a cast that ran from her fingers to her elbow. The doctor wanted her to stay overnight to monitor her concussion. She didn't mind at all.

She had no identification. No money. No name. It was a terrifying thought. She had no place to go when she left the hospital. She wasn't even sure if she had insurance to pay for the hospital bill. Without insurance, she didn't think they would let her stay for long.

It was funny. She could remember all about insurance and hospital bills, but not her own name. She knew what a concussion was, as well as x-rays, broken wrists, and hospitals, but she didn't know what she looked like.

She struggled to hold back her fears by remembering the doctor's assurance that the amnesia was probably temporary. If only he hadn't used the word 'probably'. He'd told her that she might have her memory back by the morning. Here again, the word 'might' left the door open to worry.

She'd already talked to a police officer. It hadn't taken long since she couldn't remember what had happened. No one had filed a missing person report, yet. But he had offered her a glimmer of hope. By morning, someone should have reported her disappearance. Assuming she had anyone who was close enough to her to know that she was missing. Having a name would be a start.

A nurse, wearing a white uniform and a pink cardigan sweater, came into the room carrying a bag and a metal holder that probably held medical charts. She was in her thirties, with short blond hair.

"Hi, my name is Jan. I'll be the nurse on duty tonight. They just brought up your clothes. I'll put them in the closet for you."

She had no idea what she'd been wearing that day. She hadn't paid attention when a nurse helped her undress earlier in the day. "Can I see them? Maybe they will help me remember."

"Of course." Jan brought the bag over to the bed, and opened it, pulling out the individual items. First was a pair of tan pumps. The heels were average height, and the shoes showed little wear. Next came a tan, two-piece suit. Then she pulled out pieces of delicate lingerie. It was the kind of lingerie you wore to please a lover. It gave her hope that someone would report her missing very soon. The final item was another envelope. Inside she found a pair of earrings, a necklace and a watch.

"Well, I'm no expert, but I think these are pretty expensive clothes," Jan pointed out. "And I'm sure this jewelry is, too."

She looked at the clothes and jewelry more closely. They did seem to be of a very high quality. Maybe she had money after all. Of course, she couldn't use it if she didn't know where it was. She sighed.

"Don't worry about it for now." The nurse bundled up the clothes again, and placed the bag in the closet. She returned to the bed where she took blood pressure and pulse readings, documenting them on the chart. She finally set it aside. "It's almost dinnertime, do you feel up to eating something? Maybe some soup?"

Even the thought made her stomach churn. "I am not very hungry."

"Well, if you change your mind, just ring your buzzer. And I'll be looking in on you every so often because of your concussion. Is there anything else I can get for you right now?"

Another pressing need made itself known. She felt herself blush as she said, "I need to go to the bathroom."

Her request didn't seem to bother the nurse. She efficiently lowered the side rails of the bed. "Let's take it very easy. You might become dizzy when you stand up." Jan reached out to help her up.

The room swung around a few times before settling in place. She nodded once the dizziness passed. "I am ready."

The nurse tucked one arm around her waist and helped her to the bathroom. "Can you manage on your own?"

She nodded. It would be too embarrassing to have the nurse watching her using the commode. She wasted no time using the facilities once the door was closed. When she finished, she stood up shakily and managed the few steps to the sink so that she could wash her hands. A mirror above the sink reflected back a stranger, but she studied the image carefully.

Blue eyes. Blond hair cut to shoulder length. Right now, the skin around her left eye was turning an interesting color. A bandage covered an area above the eye where she must have hit her head. She guessed she was in her thirties, but couldn't be sure.

A knock sounded at the door. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am fine." She finished washing her hands before reaching for the door handle. A few moments later, the nurse was helping her back into bed. She felt exhausted by her small journey.

After putting the bed rails back up, the nurse patted her arm. "If you need anything, just buzz me," she said with a smile before turning to leave the room.

Alone again, she couldn't stop herself from worrying.

* HL * HL *

After contacting the police, Duncan called the two local hospitals based on their suggestion. The first one had no record of Tessa being admitted there. He felt a sinking sensation when the second one said the same thing. He was just about to hang up when the clerk he had been talking to spoke up again.

"Just a minute," she said. "Can you describe your friend?"

Puzzled, Duncan did as she asked.

"We have a Jane Doe registered that fits that description. Can you come down here and bring a picture?"

"How badly is she hurt?" Duncan asked, fearing the worst. Tessa must be unconscious and unable to tell anyone her name.

"I can't give you any information until we know for sure that she is your friend. Can you come down here?"

"I'm on my way."

"Ask for Mandy at the reception desk. And bring a current picture if you can."

"Thank you." Duncan hung up and hurried into the living area to get his coat.

Richie was still there, pacing around, and he turned hopeful eyes towards the Scot when he came into the room. "Did you find something out?"

"Maybe." Duncan didn't want to get the young man's hopes up in case the woman at the hospital wasn't Tessa. "I need to go to the hospital to check something out."

Richie turned pale. "The hospital? Is Tessa in the hospital? Is she hurt badly? Why didn't they contact us? I'm going with you." He started to head for the back door.

Duncan put a hand out to stop the young man. "I don't even know if it's Tessa or not. When I find out anything, I'll let you know."

"I'm coming with you," Richie insisted.

Duncan started to protest, but then he recognized the stubborn look on Richie's face. The young man would probably follow him to the hospital on his own. "All right. We'll go together." At least that way, he could keep on eye on him.

It was hard for Duncan to concentrate on the traffic during the drive across town. No matter how hard he tried, horrid thoughts kept flooding through his brain. What if he lost Tessa? They'd only had twelve years together. It was hardly any time at all. How could he go on without her?

Richie remained silent throughout the trip-something that Duncan would have thought impossible. If anything, it would have been better if the teenager had prattled on like he normally did. It would have given the Scot something else to think about.

Finally, they reached the hospital, and Duncan parked the T-bird. Hurrying inside, they headed for the reception desk. There were two women sitting behind the desk, both wearing smock tops that proclaimed them as volunteers. One was in her early twenties and the other was in her sixties. Duncan turned to the younger one.

"Mandy?"

The older one stood up, surprising the Scot. "I'm Mandy. Are you Mr. MacLeod?"

"Yes. How is Tessa?"

"We don't know that she *is* your friend," Mandy pointed out. "Did you bring a picture?"

Duncan handed over the photo that he'd brought. "When can I see her?"

Mandy pointed to chairs on the far side of the wall. "Why don't you have a seat and I'll be back shortly. I'll take the photo upstairs and see if it matches."

While understanding their need to protect their patient until her identity was confirmed, Duncan wasn't too happy about waiting. Short of going from room to room throughout the whole hospital, there wasn't much he could do about it though.

Duncan and Richie went over to the indicated seats, but the Scot was too tense to sit down. He started pacing around the small area, while Richie plopped into a chair. Duncan knew he should say something to the silent teenager, but had no idea where to start. If the woman wasn't Tessa, they would be back to square one.

After an eternity, a man wearing a lab coat walked across the room and joined them. "Mr. MacLeod?" he asked.

"Yes?" Duncan heard Richie stand up and move closer.

"I'm Dr. Milford," the man introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Duncan shook the hand, then introduced Richie. "Are you the doctor who treated Tessa?"

"Yes, I am. Why don't we have a seat? Can you tell me what your relationship is with Ms. Noel?"

Duncan realized that he'd just received confirmation that Tessa was here. "We're..." How did he explain? "We're lovers-we have been for twelve years now. We've lived together for about nine years."

"Tessa *is* here?" Richie asked, somewhat hesitantly, seeking his own confirmation.

The doctor smiled at him. "Absolutely. I'm sure this has been very upsetting for you."

Richie nodded, but didn't say anything else.

"What happened to Tessa? How bad is her condition?" Duncan asked, impatient to get to the details. For all he knew, she was in some room in this hospital, dying, and he was being kept from her side.

"She tangled with a purse snatcher," Dr. Milford explained as they sat down. "She has a broken wrist and a concussion."

"That's it?" Richie burst out. "Then why didn't she call us?"

Duncan shot a warning glance at the teenager, but couldn't really blame him for the outburst. He'd felt like saying the same thing. What was going on?

"Unfortunately, she has amnesia. She doesn't even remember her name. The purse snatcher got away with her identification, so we didn't know who to contact."

"Amnesia?" Duncan sat back, stunned. "Is it permanent?"

The doctor shrugged. "Normally, it's not, but there are no guarantees."

"Can we see her?"

"Let me check with the nurse on duty. Ms. Noel may not want visitors yet. She's had quite a shock to her system today. We don't want to upset her if she's not ready to see you. I know this is hard for you, but we have to think of her welfare first."

Duncan nodded. "I understand. If necessary, I'll wait until she goes to sleep, but I *need* to see her... Just to make sure..."

The doctor frowned. "Well, it's highly unusual, but I understand your anxiety." He paused for a moment. "We'll see what we can work out, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it. If she *is* willing to see you, at the first sign of any agitation, you'll have to leave."

"Of course." He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Tessa's well-being. "How much can I tell her if she starts asking questions? Should she remember on her own?"

"There's two different opinions on that. Some feel that an amnesia victim should only remember on their own. However, the anxiety of not knowing things can hinder recovery, in my opinion. I would recommend answering her questions, but only that."

"All right."

"I'll be right back." The doctor stood up and went over to the reception desk, reaching for the phone behind it.

* HL * HL *

She heard the door open and looked over to see the nurse enter the room.

"How are you feeling?" Jan asked as she came over to the bed.

"About the same."

"Well, maybe this will make you feel better. Some of your friends have shown up to identify you." Jan handed over the picture. "They brought this with them. It's definitely you."

She took the photo and studied it. It matched the face she'd seen in the mirror-minus the bandage and bruising. It was only a head shot, and it looked like it had been done by a professional studio. It gave her no indication of what her life was like.

"They tell me your name is Tessa Noel. Does that ring any bells?"

Tessa Noel. It meant nothing to her, and she shook her head slowly.

"Do you feel up to seeing your friends? If you want, I can have them come back tomorrow."

"No, I want to see them. I want to know..."

Jan lightly rubbed her arm. "All right. The doctor is talking to them right now, but I'll tell him you're available to visitors." She left the room.

Tessa Noel. It did sound like a French name. At least the last name did. She studied the picture again. Why couldn't she remember? And who were these friends? She hadn't asked whether they were male or female. They had to be close, otherwise they wouldn't have realized she was missing so quickly. Maybe they were roommates-or lovers.

When the door finally opened again, Dr. Milford came into the room followed by two other men. The older of the two hurried across the room to the bed.

"Tessa! Are you all right? I've been so worried about you." He reached out a hand to caress her cheek.

Tessa pulled back, not willing to be touched by this total stranger. She could tell her actions had hurt him by the pain reflected in his eyes, but she didn't care.

"I'm sorry. I'm rushing you. The doctor told me you had amnesia, and wouldn't recognize me. I'm Duncan, and this is Richie." He pointed to the young man who had followed him into the room, but had stayed by the door.

"Do you recognize either of them?" Dr. Milford asked.

"No. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Hopefully, this is only temporary," Duncan said. He turned to the other two men in the room. "Can we have a few minutes alone?"

"Is that all right with you, Ms. Noel?" the doctor asked. "If you feel uncomfortable about it, I can have Mr. MacLeod leave, or I can stay here with you."

Tessa thought about it for a moment. What could he do to her in a hospital room, especially since there were witnesses to say he had been here? "It's all right. I will be fine."

"Very well, but you can buzz the nurse's station if you need anything." The doctor turned and left the room, and the young man followed him.

Tessa took the time to study the man standing by her bed. She had to admit he was something of a hunk, with a strong face that matched his muscular body. Even his long hair seemed to suit him, when on others it would have seemed effeminate. But there was something about him-something that screamed he was dangerous. He didn't seem her type.

"Do we know each other well?" she asked. He reached for her hand, only to pull back at the last moment. She could tell it bothered him to not be able to touch her.

"We met about twelve years ago. In Paris. We've been lovers almost the whole time. Nine years ago, you came to Seacouver with me, and we've lived here since then."

Lovers. Lived together. "But we're not married?"

A slightly guilty look filled his eyes. "We've never felt the need to take that final step. Our love for each other has never been in doubt."

"Where do we live? What do you do for a living? What do *I* do for a living?"

"We have an antique store, and live in the apartment behind it. You are an artist-primarily sculpture." He nodded at the picture. "That was taken to include in the catalog for an upcoming art show highlighting your work."

"So, I am a good artist?"

He grinned. "Very good."

Oh, that smile. It changed his entire appearance. She could see why she had been attracted to him, now. It sent shivers up and down her spine. It took a great deal of effort to get back to her questions.

"Do we have any children?"

This time it was regret that filled his eyes. They seemed to be windows to his every emotion. Or maybe she knew him so well, even though she couldn't remember, that she could read them so easily. "I can't have children."

Without thinking, she reached out for his hand. She could tell that fact bothered him a lot. For a brief moment they touched, then she withdrew. Her fingers seemed to tingle from the warmth of his hand. She wondered what it would be like to touch more of him, and heat flooded through her at the idea.

Just then, the door opened again. Dr. Milford stuck his head in the room. "I think it's time that Ms. Noel gets a little rest."

"I'll be back tomorrow," Duncan promised. He started to lean over her, then abruptly pulled back. "Try to get some rest."

She nodded. "Good night."

With a last look, he left the room.

She had a lot to think about. She had a name, now, and a place of residence. She wouldn't be out on the street. But how could she move in with a man she didn't remember? And who was the other one? They had never even discussed him. What had been his name? Ricky? No, Richie. Where did he fit into the picture?

With a sigh, she settled herself back into her pillow. Maybe she would remember in the morning.

* HL * HL *

Duncan followed Dr. Milford down the hallway to the lounge. Richie was there, waiting for him.

"I'll need you to stop at registration and fill out some forms," the doctor started. "Her medical history, insurance, and so forth."

"Of course. When can she be released?"

"As long as there are no complications tonight, she can be released in the morning. However, she may not feel comfortable in resuming a... an intimate relationship if she doesn't remember you."

Duncan nodded. Based on her reluctance to be touched, he'd figured that one out on his own. "Is there anything else we can do to help her?"

"Patience, love and understanding will be your best tools. Other than that, rest and no anxiety are the best things for her."

"We'll do everything we can, won't we, Richie?" The teenager had remained silent the whole time.

"Sure, Mac, whatever it takes."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow morning," Dr. Milford said. "Let's say 10:00. That will give us time to check her over before releasing her."

"We'll be here."

"And don't forget to fill out the forms downstairs." The doctor shook their hands, then hurried off down the hall.

Richie still looked troubled, and Duncan placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's going to be fine," he said, giving a little squeeze.

"What if she never remembers?"

Duncan had wondered about the same thing, but refused to dwell on it. "Then we'll help her remember. She's still the same person who left this morning."

"Are you sure? Maybe she won't want a thief living with her."

"Maybe she won't, but I don't know of any who are living with us. Do you?" Duncan asked with a lop-sided grin. "I thought you'd given up your life of crime."

That brought a small smile to his face. "Yeah, you're right."

"Now, let's go fill out all those forms that the hospital wants so that we can go home."

"Sure, Mac."

After thirty minutes, they were finally able to head home. Richie was still unnaturally quiet, but Duncan decided to wait until they got home before trying to find out why. They made a quick detour to where Tessa had left her car, and Richie drove the Mercedes home. Duncan parked the T-bird, then waited for Richie before heading for the back door. He reached for the knob, but before he could unlock the door, it swung open. For a moment, he wondered if they'd been in such a rush to leave that they hadn't closed it securely behind them, then decided it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Stay here, Richie," he ordered.

Duncan cautiously entered the workshop, drawing his sword. There were no lights to be seen coming from the store or the living area. Flipping a mental coin, he headed up the stairs to the kitchen. Slowly, he made his way through the apartment, checking each room as he went. He had just looked into Richie's bedroom when he heard a loud noise coming from Tessa's workshop. He hurried back the way he'd come.

In the darkness, it was difficult to tell what was going on, but he could just barely make out two figures rolling around on the floor, exchanging blows. Duncan reached for the switch and flooded the room with light. Only then did he move forward to break up the fight.

Richie and a stranger were struggling together, neither seeming to have the upper hand. It took several moments before Duncan was able to get a grip on the teenager's adversary and pull him up.

"Richie, I've got him. That's enough!" Duncan said, as he restrained the other fighter.

The young man swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of blood across his chin. "He was in the antique store, Mac. I caught him trying to leave with a bag of stuff." He pointed at a duffel bag on the floor by the office door.

"Good job, Richie. Why don't you call the police? We'll let them handle this." Duncan followed the teenager into the office, still holding the thief securely. He pushed him down into the office chair. "Don't even think about it," he warned when the thief looked like he was going to make a run for it.

Richie made the phone call, glaring at their intruder the whole time. When he'd hung up, Duncan sent him to clean up his face. Fortunately, the only damage was a split lip.

The teenager disappeared back into the workshop, returning a few moments later with the bag. He set it down on the desk, then without warning, he swung out and hit their intruder. "You bastard!" he yelled, continuing to throw punches.

Duncan quickly pulled Richie back. "What's going on?" He couldn't understand what had set the young man off.

"He had Tessa's keys! He must have been the one who hurt her!"

For a moment, a murderous rage filled Duncan, too. Their intruder had been the cause of all their worry. And now Tessa had amnesia. But the young man sitting in the chair was very mortal and very young. And right now, he was looking very scared.

"Let the law deal with him," Duncan said.

"I'd rather tear him apart myself!"

"Enough!"

Just then someone knocked at the back door, and Duncan sent Richie to answer it. He came back with two officers. For the next half hour, they answered questions before the police escorted the thief to the squad car. Duncan promised to stop by the station in the morning to sign the formal complaint and identify his property. The bag, all its contents, and Tessa's keys were taken as evidence.

"All right," Duncan said as he locked the back door. "Let's see if we can get the place straightened up." Their intruder had left a mess behind, pulling things out of cabinets then deciding not to take them.

With a sigh, Richie headed for the antique store. Duncan started at one side, while the teenager went to the other. The Scot wasted no time putting items back in the display cabinets, rearranging things to hide the empty spots caused by missing antiques. He looked over to see how Richie was doing, and saw the young man staring off into space.

Duncan sighed, and walked across the room. "What's wrong, Richie?"

The teenager refused to look at him, turning to stare at the porcelain figurine in his hands instead. "Nothing."

"Don't tell me that. I can tell when something is bothering you."

Richie sighed, but still didn't look up. "You know I haven't exactly lived a... good life."

"Yes, I know that." Duncan wondered where this was going.

"I've even stolen a few purses myself. But I always targeted someone who looked like they could afford to lose a few dollars. I didn't want someone to suffer because of what I did." He turned pain-filled eyes to Duncan. "But what if I hurt someone like that creep did to Tessa? I never stuck around to see if my victim was hurt or not."

Duncan scrubbed at his face, searching for the right words to say. "It's in the past, Richie. There's nothing you can do now that will change that. Maybe you did hurt someone, but maybe you didn't, either. The most important thing is that you're not doing it anymore."

"Only because of you and Tessa." Richie sighed. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to kick me out."

"Why would I want to do that?" Duncan said, trying to keep the exasperation from his voice. "We took you in to so you wouldn't have to steal purses and break into antique stores. You're not to blame for what happened to Tessa. That person is in jail."

"Are you going to take him in, too? To keep him from stealing any more purses?"

"No-you were a special case." Duncan grinned at Richie. "Anyone else would have taken off and never come back after seeing guys running around with swords. Instead, you kept hanging around, seeing things you shouldn't have seen. I had to reward that perseverance, somehow. I figured if I could redirect that stubbornness to more legal efforts, you would be unstoppable."

"Yeah, I guess I got lucky that night."

"You sure did," Duncan said, pulling Richie into a quick embrace. "And so did we." "Thanks, Mac," Richie said with a smile.

"Feeling better?"

The young man nodded.

"Good. Now, let's get back to work."

Richie turned back to his cabinet, and started arranging it. Duncan watched him for a few moments before returning to his own tasks.

* HL * HL *

The next morning, Duncan selected some clothes for Tessa, and packed them in a bag. He carried it out, and set it by the door leading to the workshop. Richie was just finishing up with his breakfast.

"I thought we'd leave around 8:30," Duncan said, glancing at the kitchen clock. "That should give us plenty of time to stop at the police station, and get that taken care of."

"Why don't you go without me?" Richie replied. "I'll go ahead and open up the store."

Duncan frowned. "I thought we worked through all of this last night."

"We did. But I figured it would be easier on Tessa if only you showed up. The doctor said she shouldn't be stressed out. I can wait and see her when she gets home."

Duncan had to admit that Richie might have a point. Still, it didn't seem right to leave him behind either. They were all in this together.

"Besides," Richie added with a grin, "I can easily skip the trip to the cop shop. I'm not one of their favorite people."

Duncan had to laugh at that. "All right, Richie. I'll handle them on my own. Hopefully, we'll be home by 11:00."

"Got it."

* HL * HL *

Once the doctor had checked her over, the nurse on duty allowed Tessa to take a shower after wrapping the cast in plastic to keep it dry. She hesitated to put on her clothes from the day before, since they had dirt and blood on them. Still, she couldn't exactly leave the hospital wearing just the robe they had given her.

Someone knocked at the door while she was still eyeing her clothes, and she called out for them to come in. The man from the night before-Duncan-came into the room. Dressed in black jeans, and a royal blue shirt, he looked wickedly handsome-especially when he smiled.

"Good morning, Tessa. How are you feeling today?"

"Much better. The doctor thinks I can go home." She wasn't quite so certain that she was ready, but a part of her couldn't wait to try to find out more about her life.

"That's great." A big smile crossed his face. "I've brought you some clean clothes to wear." He placed the bag he'd been carrying on the bed.

"Thank you! I wasn't looking forward to wearing my dirty clothes." She opened the bag and peered inside. It looked like he'd been quite thorough. Underwear, slacks, shirt, and even shoes. He'd even put in a hairbrush, toothbrush, and other toiletries. She carried the bag over to the bathroom. "I won't be long."

"Take your time. We're in no rush."

Fifteen minutes later, Tessa emerged from the bathroom, placing the bag on the bed. Duncan was studying some papers in his hand.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Instructions. Things to watch for-dizziness, nausea, headaches, sensitivity to light, and so forth. The nurse brought them in while you were changing. She also gave me a prescription for pain pills. She said she'd be back in a few minutes to sign you out."

Anticipation and fear struggled for dominance. Maybe seeing her home would stir some memory, but the hospital seemed safe. She was going off with a virtual stranger-no matter how long he claimed they'd been together.

"Don't worry," Duncan said, seeming to read her mind. "We'll get through this. You set the pace. Just tell me if something I'm doing makes you nervous or upset, and I won't do it anymore."

"And if I never get my memory back?"

"Then we'll create new memories."

The nurse chose that moment to bring a wheelchair into the room. She picked up a clipboard from the seat and passed it to Tessa. "I just need your signature," she said, "then you're all set."

She signed her name somewhat awkwardly. It was something she was going to have to practice. How many times had she signed Tessa Noel in the past? You'd think it would come naturally-unless it wasn't really her name. That thought gave her pause. What if Duncan was lying about who she was?

Tessa gave herself a mental shake. Why would he lie about something like that? It didn't make any sense. She'd have to stop thinking about those kinds of things, otherwise she'd be jumping at shadows next. She sat down in the wheelchair, determined to think positive thoughts.

* HL * HL *

The drive home was a silent one. They made one stop on the way, to fill her prescription for painkillers. They didn't even need to get out of the car-they used a drive-up window at a drug store.

As they continued their drive, Tessa kept hoping that something would look familiar, but nothing did. Not even when Duncan pulled the T-bird into an alley and turned the ignition off.

"This is it?" she asked, taking in the brick wall that was covered in graffiti. Maybe they weren't as well off as her clothes indicated.

"This is it," Duncan said, before climbing out of the car and hurrying around to her door. He reached in and offered his hand.

Tessa could have managed on her own, but she took his hand and let him pull her up. She slowly started towards the door, and felt one of Duncan's hands come to rest on her back. She glanced over at him.

He moved his hand away and grimaced. "Sorry. I keep forgetting."

"I thought *I* was the one with amnesia," she said, with a slight smile.

Duncan laughed. "Maybe it's catching. I'll try to do better."

They went inside, and Tessa found herself in a large room. A set of stairs on one side led up to a catwalk, and she could see an easel set up, ready for use. On the other side, a shorter flight of stairs led into a kitchen area that she could see through the large glass panels that separated the room. On the far side, was another door that looked like it led to an office.

"This is your workshop," Duncan said.

She studied the various pieces of metal and wood, but nothing seemed familiar, even though she must have spent a lot of time here. Duncan had said she was an artist, and she'd imagined herself painting landscapes or bowls of fruit. It was pretty obvious by all the equipment that painting wasn't her area of expertise.

The young man that she'd met from the night before poked his head through the far door. He smiled when he saw them standing there, and started across the room.

"Hey, Tessa, welcome home," he greeted her with a big smile.

"Thank you...uh... Richie?" She wasn't quite sure why he was here.

"Still no memory, huh? Oh well, I'm sure you'll get it back soon. Rest and relaxation-that's what the doctor ordered and we'll make sure you get it. I can handle the shop and Mac can take care of you." A chime sounded from the other room and Richie looked over his shoulder. "Oops, more customers. Better get back to work before the boss thinks I'm goofing off." He gave them another big grin before heading back through the door.

She finally realized that the antique shop must be in that direction, and Richie must work for them. That explained that! Curiosity got the better of her and she headed for the shop. Richie was showing the customer something from one of the display cases. Tessa slowly started through the store, trying to take in all the different kinds of merchandise they carried. Suits of armor, swords, old jewelry, china figurines, old silverware, paintings, and so much more. It was mind boggling.

As she continued to wander through the store, she found herself making minor adjustments to the placements of various pieces being displayed. She couldn't explain why she was doing it, but it seemed right to be doing it. Before she got the urge to rearrange more things, she went back into the office where Duncan was waiting patiently.

"Ready to see the rest of the place?" he asked.

Tessa nodded, and let him lead her toward the living area. It wasn't all that big. A nice size kitchen, with a dining table nearby. There weren't any room dividers, and the space segued into the living room. The chairs and sofa looked comfortable, and there was a fireplace at one end. On the other side was a grand piano. Hardwood floors were covered with oriental rugs.

Very elegant, yet very casual at the same time. She wondered if she had decorated the place, or if they'd hired someone to do it. If it had been her, then she had very good taste.

Duncan continued on to a hallway that led off from the living room. He stopped at the first door, but didn't reach for the handle.

"This is Richie's room. It's probably a mess, so I don't think you want to see it-it might send you into shock."

The first sentence had already accomplished that. "Richie lives here? Why?" she blurted out. Why would they have a young man living with them?

"Hey, Mac."

Tessa spun around and saw the man in question. He wasn't smiling anymore.

He ignored her, and continued on, "Mr. Peterson is on the phone and wants to talk to you."

"Take a message, and I'll call him back later," Duncan replied.

"Okay." Richie turned and left the room.

Duncan waited until he was out of hearing before answering Tessa's questions in a cold tone. "Yes, he lives here. He got into some trouble and needed someone to give him a break. We were that someone. He's become a very good friend-to both of us."

Tessa felt ashamed at her outburst. "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. I was just surprised that we had someone living with us."

"I understand," Duncan said with a smile, reaching out one hand to touch her. At the last moment, he pulled it back. "I'll talk to Richie. I'm sure he'll understand, too. Let's go on with the tour." He led the way around a corner, and down another hallway, ending up in front of a set of double doors. This time, he reached for the handles and opened them.

"This is our bedroom," he said, standing back to allow her to enter.

Tessa slowly walked into the room. The bed seemed to dominate the room, and she tried to imagine making love to Duncan in it. It wasn't very difficult, and she could feel herself blushing. She wasn't ready for that, yet. Then another thought struck her.

"There are only two bedrooms?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder at Duncan.

"Yes, but don't worry. I'll sleep on the couch until you get your memory back, or you decide you want to share this bed with me."

Guilt flooded through her. "It doesn't seem fair... It's not your fault that I can't remember. Maybe I should stay in a hotel for a while."

"It's not your fault either, Tessa. And there's no reason for you to stay in a hotel. This is your home, and it may help you recover your memory faster. Besides, you'd be all alone at a hotel. What if you had a setback? No, it will be much better for you to stay here where we can keep an eye on you. Now then, why don't you lie down and have a little rest. I'll call you when lunch is ready."

He was gone before she realized that he'd never given her a chance to discuss their options. She couldn't help but wonder if he always managed to get his own way-no matter what she wanted. And was there more to his keeping on eye on her besides concern for her health? With a sigh, she walked over to a curtain and peered behind it. Finding it contained clothes, she searched through it until she found a robe. She slipped out of her outfit and into the robe before heading for the bed. A nap did sound good right now.

* HL * HL *

Duncan headed for the antique store after leaving the bedroom. He wanted to make sure Richie hadn't been too upset about Tessa's comments. The young man was helping a customer, so Duncan decided to call Mr. Peterson back. Their conversation took longer than expected, but he finally managed to break away.

Richie was still busy, so Duncan headed back to the kitchen. A little homemade vegetable soup sounded good for lunch. He gathered the ingredients from the refrigerator, then started chopping vegetables. The repetitive steps were almost soothing. Soon, the soup was simmering on the stove, sending an appetizing aroma through the apartment.

It didn't take long for Richie to make an appearance. "What smells so good?" he asked as he checked out the stove.

"Lunch," Duncan replied, fighting to hide his grin.

Richie threw him a disgusted look. "Very funny."

"It's vegetable soup."

"Great. What else are we having?"

Duncan shook his head in disbelief. "Nothing else, but you can make a sandwich if you want."

"You don't want me to starve, do you?"

"Of course not. Richie... about what you heard earlier... Tessa didn't mean anything. She was just a little bit surprised to find out you lived here."

"Yeah, I bet that would shock anyone," Richie replied in a bitter tone.

Duncan sighed. "That's not what I mean. But even you have to admit that we're not the most typical household around."

"That's for sure. I guess it might seem a little strange to have an 18-year-old living with you. Not many couples would do that. Maybe I should move out for a while. It'll make things easier."

"No, it won't," Duncan protested. "We're all in this together-running away won't help. In fact, it would help me to know you're here if I should... have to go out."

Richie understood almost instantly. "You mean if you have to..." He waved one hand around to simulate sword fighting.

"Yes. I wouldn't want to leave Tessa here by herself."

"Are you going to tell her everything?"

"Not yet. I'm afraid it might frighten her. She's already unsettled enough as it is. She doesn't need that added to it. After all, I'd known her for almost three years before I told her the first time. If she doesn't regain her memory... well... I don't know if I'll ever tell her."

A shocked look crossed Richie's face. "Why not?"

Duncan sighed. "You know how difficult Tessa sometimes finds my life. If she doesn't regain her memory, she may be better off without me."

"You'd leave her?" Richie sounded like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "After twelve years?"

"It would be the best thing for her." Duncan turned away and busied himself stirring the soup.

Richie didn't say anything else, he just headed back to the shop.

* HL * HL *

Tessa rested for a while, but the appetizing aroma that drifted into the room caused her stomach to start growling. She climbed out of bed, and headed back to the closet. This time, she spent more time examining the clothes. It seemed that she really liked two-piece outfits-with short skirts. There were also many full-length gowns in the back. It seemed almost sacrilegious to have blue jeans hanging in the same closet. She selected a pair, along with a sleeveless top that would easily slide on over the cast.

After dressing, she headed back to the apartment. So far, she hadn't see a bathroom. There had to be at least one in the place. Just before she entered the living room, she heard Duncan and Richie talking.

"Are you going to tell her everything?"

Almost without thinking, Tessa stepped back so the men wouldn't be able to see her. She listened to their dialogue, growing more and more confused. When they finished, she headed back to the bedroom. Once there, she collapsed on the bed.

What was Duncan not telling her? What about his life did she find hard? Did all the wealth that seemed to fill the place come from some kind of illegal activity? Was the antique store just a front for something so bad that she couldn't be told about it?

It was pretty obvious that she must have known whatever it was before she had amnesia. She must have condoned whatever it was. Was she the type of person to keep quiet about illegal activities? Did she keep quiet because she was afraid that Duncan would do something to her if she told police what was going on?

The only thing she was certain of was that she and Duncan were lovers. Richie had said that they'd been together for twelve years which matched what Duncan had told her at the hospital. Since he couldn't know that she'd been listening, there would have been no reason for him to lie about it. What had been more upsetting was that Duncan would be willing to walk away from her.

He obviously didn't love her. Did she know that before? If she did, did that mean she was one of those women who would let men walk all over them? Or did she, foolishly, think he was madly in love with her? Did he whisper 'I love you' once in a while so that she would be happy?

By now, her head was throbbing. Somewhere in this place there had to be some aspirin-or maybe those painkillers the doctor had prescribed. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and headed out to find something to stop the pain-at least the one that could be helped.

She didn't think anything would deaden the pain that filled her heart.

Duncan smiled when he saw her come into the living room. She couldn't return it. It took all her willpower to not glare at him. He must have sensed something was wrong, because his smile slowly faded.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern filling his face.

"I have a headache. I need one of my painkillers."

"Of course." Duncan hurried over to the dining room table and picked up the small white bag that was sitting on it. He opened it, dumped a bottle out into his hand, and read the instructions.

"It says you can take one or two pills every four hours. Shall we start with one?"

"No. I want two of them." She knew she was being contrary, but she was determined to have her own way. She was the only one who knew how badly her head was hurting.

Duncan frowned, and moved closer. "Are you feeling dizzy? Have blurred vision? Feel nauseous? Maybe we should go back to the hospital."

Tessa sighed. "No. My head just hurts. Give me the pills." She held out her hand.

Duncan took the lid off the bottle, and shook out two pills into her hand. "Let me get you some water. Why don't you sit down on the couch?" He placed the bottle back on the table and hurried over to a cupboard. Opening it, he took out a glass, then filled it with water. He brought it over to where she was still standing.

Tessa took the glass, placed the pills in her mouth, then drank the water to wash them down. She handed the glass back to Duncan. "Where is the bathroom?" she asked.

Duncan set the glass down, then led her over to another hallway. To the left, was a door leading into the bathroom. A double sink and a commode filled one side of the room, and large bars filled with plush towels covered the other side. At the far end was a large shower. She moved further into the room, then realized that one side of the shower was made of glass blocks. Blocks that showed the outline of the dining room chairs in the other room! Anyone taking a shower in here would be visible to people in the dining room!

"This must be quite a conversation piece when we have people over for dinner," she commented.

"Most people don't realize that it's the shower."

"And what about Richie? Does he realize what it is?"

"Yes, and he knows better than to look this direction when the water is running. It hasn't been a problem so far."

"And what about when he takes a shower? Do I have to go somewhere else?"

"He has his own bathroom. If it will make you happier, we can put up some curtains to block off the dining room whenever you use the shower."

"It would make me very happy." Tessa didn't like the thought of either Richie or Duncan watching her shower. "Now, if I could have some privacy?"

Duncan flushed, and turned away. "I'm sorry. Lunch is almost ready, by the way." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Tessa took her time, not wanting to face Duncan again until she felt more in control. She wished the painkillers would work faster, but knew she was expecting too much. Finally, she knew she had to leave the room. She couldn't hide in here all day.

Duncan started ladling the soup into bowls as soon as she came back into the room. "Have a seat," he said as he carried the bowls to the table. He returned to the kitchen, opened the oven, and pulled out a long, thin, foil-wrapped item. When he opened it, the fragrant aroma of French bread drifted over to her. He quickly sliced it, placed the bread in a basket and brought it to the table.

Tessa picked up her spoon and sampled the soup. It was delicious, and reminded her of just how hungry she had been. She concentrated on eating, hoping that Duncan wouldn't want to talk over the meal. She didn't know what to say to him.

Duncan must have sensed her mood, because he kept quiet throughout the meal. He finished before her, and carried his bowl back to the kitchen. "I'll go relieve Richie so he can eat," he said before heading out of the apartment.

A few minutes later, Richie bopped into the kitchen. He headed straight for the refrigerator and started pulling out various items. Juggling them in his arms, he hurried over to the nearby counter and set them down. Tessa watched as he fetched bread from a cupboard, then made himself a sandwich.

"It's very good soup," she pointed out. "Maybe you should try it."

"Oh, I'm going to," he said as he got a bowl out of the cupboard. "But I'm starving!" He brought the soup and his sandwich to the table, then went back to fetch a large glass of milk.

Tessa tried to keep an open mind. Maybe Richie hadn't eaten breakfast.

Richie flushed when he saw her eyeing the food in front of him. "I'm a growing boy," he defended himself. "You never used to mind-as long as I ate healthy stuff."

Now it was Tessa's turn to feel heat creep up into her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I wish I could remember..."

"That's all right," Richie said before biting into his sandwich.

Tessa studied the young man. Maybe he would be easier to get information out of than Duncan. He had to know what was going on around here.

"What was I like?"

Richie stopped chewing and turned startled eyes toward her. He finally managed to swallow before asking, "What?"

"What was I like? Was I a nice person?"

"Ummm... Maybe you should talk to Mac."

"Why? Didn't you like me?"

"No! That's not it at all. You're a really wonderful person. Generous, nice, kind, wonderful, nice, sexy..." Richie turned bright red. "No forget that last part," he blurted out.

Tessa struggled to hide her smile at his embarrassment. "Why? Don't you think I'm sexy?"

"No! I mean, yeah you are... but not to me! I mean, you and Duncan... you and I aren't... I mean I'm just a friend..." Richie looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

"Take it easy, Richie. I understand what you are trying to say. So, Duncan and I are in love?" She couldn't wait to hear his answer.

A relieved expression filled the young man's face. "Oh, yeah. You and Mac are crazy about each other. I've never met anyone who was more in love than the two of you. It's kinda embarrassing sometimes. I never know when or where I'll find the two of you making out."

Tessa didn't want to think about just how much Richie had seen. Just the thought of her and Duncan 'making out' sent warmth flooding through her. "So you and I are friends?"

"Well, *I* thought so." For a moment, Tessa glimpsed uncertainty in Richie's eyes. "You were always nice to me. You never put me down about my past or made me feel like I shouldn't be here. I don't think there are many women who would let their boyfriend bring home a guy like me to live with them-especially one who tried to break into their store."

"You tried to break in here?" Maybe that was the answer. Maybe Duncan was a thief and decided to recruit Richie as a helper.

"Yeah, but Mac caught me. I've been clean-well, almost-since I moved in here! Honest! And you understood why I tried to steal my records from the orphanage."

Tessa couldn't help but believe him. The earnest look on his face made it quite clear that he was telling the truth. "Are you an orphan?"

Richie looked down at his bowl of soup, stirring it slowly with his spoon. It was obviously a difficult topic for the young man. "Yeah, I don't know who my parents are. The woman I thought was my mom was really a foster mother. And then I ended up bringing a con artist here because I thought he was my dad. I figured you'd kick me out for sure after that mess, but you didn't. I guess that makes you pretty special."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she struggled to keep them from falling. "Thank you, Richie. What about Duncan?"

"What about him?" he asked in a wary tone.

"Is he special, too?"

For a moment, she could have sworn that Richie was struggling not to laugh. "Oh, yeah, he's real special."

"How so?"

"Well, he just is. I can't explain it." Richie glanced at his watch, and jumped to his feet. "I'd better get back to work." He practically ran from the room, leaving his meal half-finished.

Curiouser and curiouser. Richie had been more than willing to talk until the subject of Duncan came up. Maybe he was afraid of Duncan. Afraid that he'd say the wrong thing and be punished for it. Tessa stood up and started clearing the table. It was a little awkward to do with one arm in a cast, but it gave her something to do.

"I'll do that."

Tessa looked over her shoulder to see Duncan coming into the room. "I don't mind."

"All right." He moved over to the sink and started rinsing the dishes. "How's your headache?"

"It's gone. The pain pills took care of it."

"That's good." Duncan filled the sink with soapy water, and started washing the dishes.

"So, you cook, you clean, what else do you do?" Tessa leaned back against the counter and watched him.

He turned to look at her directly. "Whatever I need to do."

His serious tone sent shivers up and down her spine. She decided it was time to retreat. "I think I'll go rest for a while."

"Why don't you stretch out on the couch," Duncan suggested. "I'll put some music on, and start a fire."

Tessa was tempted. It sounded much nicer than hiding in the bedroom. "All right," she agreed. She settled in on the couch so that she'd be able to see the fireplace.

Duncan spent a few minutes selecting some CDs, then started the fire. Finally, he came over and took an afghan from the back of the couch, and covered her. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine." She closed her eyes and listened to the music softly filling the room. Before she knew it, she fell asleep.

* HL * HL *

When Tessa woke, it was almost three in the afternoon. She slowly stood up, her muscles protesting with every movement. She couldn't believe how stiff she'd become. She felt like an old woman as she started across the room, but with each step, it became easier to walk.

Finding no one in the apartment, Tessa wandered out to the antique store. She found Richie in the office, staring at a computer screen with a horrified expression on his face. As she drew closer, she could hear him muttering.

"He's gonna kill me! Mac's gonna take his sword and chop me up in teeny, little pieces."

Tessa didn't know what to do. Was Richie serious? Did he really think that Duncan was going to kill him? And what sword was he talking about? Taking a deep breath, she moved into the office.

"What's wrong, Richie?" she asked, trying to keep her face a mask.

"Oh, maaaaaaan! I really screwed up," Richie almost moaned. "Mac's gonna kill me."

"I'm sure he won't," Tessa tried to soothe him, even though she really wasn't certain. "Surely you couldn't have done something *that* bad."

"Oh, yes I could... I really screwed up bad this time. I had a customer who wanted to buy a painting and I didn't know what it cost, so I looked it up on the computer, just like Mac told me to do. I guess I didn't look close enough because I sold the painting for $200 when it should have been $2000. Mac's gonna kill me."

Tessa didn't know what to say. It was a lot of money to lose, and she had no idea how Duncan would react. Still, it seemed a little extreme to think that he might kill Richie because of it.

"Where is Duncan?" she asked.

"He went to the store-said something about buying some curtains. He should be home soon. Then he's gonna kill me."

"Richie, do you really, *honestly* think Duncan is going to kill you?" She reached out and tilted Richie's face up so that he looked her straight in the eyes. "Because if you do, I will do whatever I can to help you. We can go to the police. They can stop him. Oh, I wish I could remember!"

Bright red color swept over Richie's cheeks. "Oh, no, Tessa! I didn't mean it like that! Mac wouldn't kill me. Honest! He's not that kind of guy! He'll just make me feel so bad that I'll wish I was dead. Or maybe he'll just kick me out, at which point I might as well be dead. But he won't hurt me-not physically."

"Are you sure? You mentioned something about a sword."

"A sword? Oh, hey, uh, you must have misunderstood. Uh... Board. I said board. I said he was gonna hit me with a board. Yeah, that's what I said. Or maybe it was floored. That I was gonna be floored by him. I wouldn't have said sword. Nope. No way." Richie looked around the room frantically. "I... uh... I'd better go straighten up the shop. You never know when a customer might come in and you wouldn't want them to see the place in a mess, would you?" He started to stand up.

Tessa quickly reached out and gently pushed him back down. "The shop can wait. I know what I heard. Why does Duncan have a sword, and why were you afraid he was going to chop you up? And I want the truth this time."

Richie's mouth opened and closed several times without anything coming out. He finally sighed. "I can't tell you. If I do, Mac will *really* get mad at me."

"Richie, you're scaring me, here. I need to know the truth. Does Duncan use his sword to hurt people? Is that what you can't tell me?" She didn't realize that she was clutching Richie's shoulder until she saw him wince at the pain. She snatched her hand away. "I'm sorry, Richie. I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that I overheard you talking to Duncan earlier and I know there's something he doesn't want me to know. But I *have* to know! Don't you understand? If you won't tell me, then I'll... I'll have to leave. I can't stay here if I can't trust him!"

"You won't believe me, even if I do tell you."

"Yes, I will. Please, Richie. Tell me what Duncan is hiding." She felt a tear roll down her cheek, and struggled to hold back the rest of them.

"Aw, Tess... Don't cry. Please! I'll tell you everything. I promise!"

She gave him a tremulous smile to try to remove the panicked look from his face. "Thank you, Richie. Now, tell me everything." She perched on the edge of the desk and waited for him to start.

"This is gonna sound crazy."

"I don't care. Tell me."

For the longest time, Richie said nothing, then the words came out slowly, as if he had to check off items as he said them.

"Mac's immortal. He's four hundred years old. He doesn't grow older. He can't die-unless his head is chopped off. That's why he has a sword. He and other Immortals fight each other with swords. The only way to win is to chop the other guy's head off. The winner gets the Quickening. It's kinda like a lightning show. But he only uses his sword on other Immortals. And he doesn't like to fight, but he will if he has to-like if you're in trouble or someone else is in trouble."

Tessa stared at Richie in disbelief while she struggled to comprehend what the teenager had just said. Duncan was four hundred years old? It didn't seem possible. And the whole bit about chopping off people's heads seemed even more farfetched.

"Really, Richie," she said, not even trying to hide the exasperation in her voice. "I asked for the truth, not some fairy tale or movie plot."

"It's the truth!" Richie insisted. "I've seen him fight another Immortal. And so have you. He heals just like that." He snapped his fingers together. "If he couldn't, why, we'd probably all be dead. Well, you might have survived, but I don't think you would have been happy about it."

"What happened?" She still didn't really believe it, but she was interested in seeing just how creative Richie could be.

"You and I were at the courthouse-because you had a ton of parking tickets-when this crazy guy named Slade escaped and took us and some other people hostage. Mac tried to rescue us, but there were too many of them. Well, Slade thought the cops were stalling, so he decided to shoot one of us. Mac volunteered because he knew he couldn't die. Then he snuck around and took care of all of Slade's men, one by one. Slade was going to take you with him in the helicopter. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. Mac did, though. He killed Slade to save you."

"And this Slade person was an Immortal, too?"

"Well, no, but Mac was only protecting you. Caleb was, though. He kidnapped you and Mac had to track you through the wilderness to save you. That's the fight that you saw. I wasn't there for that one. And Reinhardt was one. It was me who got kidnapped that time. And then there was Voshin. He was an Immortal and a drug dealer. You see, Mac's one of the good guys."

"If so, then why didn't he want me to know about it?" Nothing made any sense at all.

"Well, it isn't always easy being around an Immortal. Mac always worries that another Immortal will use you to get to him. While you've been together for a long time, and you knew that Mac was an Immortal, you didn't know about Immortals fighting each other until a few months ago. Mac always managed to keep that part hidden from you. Then one night, I broke in here at the same time this really bad Immortal showed up. I couldn't figure out why everyone was running around with swords, so I kept following Mac around. They finally ended up fighting, and I saw the whole thing. I think that's why Mac wanted me to come live here. He keeps saying it's because he thinks I have potential, but I think he just wants me to keep quiet."

Tessa didn't miss the brief glimpse of uncertainty and hurt that showed in Richie's eyes. "Oh, I'm sure there's more to it than that," she said. She wasn't sure why she was so certain about it, but she was.

Richie shrugged as if it didn't matter, but she knew better.

"Anyway, I'm here, you're here, he's here," he said. "And Mac loves you-he really does. And you love him. That's all that's really important, isn't it?"

Tessa realized the wisdom of his words, and she couldn't doubt his sincerity on that point. "You're right. How did you get to be so smart?"

Richie gave her a killer smile. "Hey, that's me. I see all, hear all, know all."

Tessa had to laugh. "And tell all. I think I'm glad that you are here."

"So, you won't leave, will you?"

"You've told me everything?"

Richie nodded earnestly. "Honest. The whole truth."

"Then I guess I'd better hang around to make sure Duncan doesn't kill you because of your mistake then, shouldn't I?"

"Oh, maaaaan," Richie moaned, reminded of his dilemma again. "He's gonna kill me."

Tessa patted his shoulder, unable to stop from smiling. She felt much more confidant that the teenager had nothing to worry about. "I'll be in the apartment if you need protection," she said before heading in that direction.

* HL * HL *

Richie kept an anxious eye on the back door of the apartment. Sooner or later, Duncan would walk through that door, and he would have to confess. He just couldn't decide which thing he should confess to first.

If he confessed to telling Tessa about Immortals, then maybe selling that painting for the wrong price would seem pretty minor. Or it could be the final straw, and he would find himself out on the streets again. Either way, he was going to be in big trouble.

Still, on the plus side, he *had* kept Tessa from leaving. That had to count for something. Now, if he could only figure out how to make up the $1800 between the two prices, he might survive this fiasco. Not that he had a clue how to do it. There was no way he could pay back that kind of money on his salary. It would take him years. Even if he sold his motorcycle, it wouldn't make a dent in the amount. Maybe he should offer to do it anyway. Something was better than nothing.

Richie wandered out to the back door, and gazed out at his motorcycle. He'd worked hard to make enough money to buy it. It meant something to him. It was his most prized possession-even if it wasn't brand new. He could still remember Tessa's horrified expression when he'd brought the bike home. Duncan had been harder to read, but Richie was pretty certain that the Scot hadn't been overly happy about the idea. Still, all they had done was lecture him about wearing a helmet and driving carefully.

Slowly, Richie headed back to the office, trying to figure out how to make up the rest of the money. He'd never been very good at saving, so his bank account was almost a joke. He doubted he could get much if he sold his CD player and all of his CDs. Going back to stealing wasn't an option, either.

A customer came in the door, and Richie pasted a bright smile on his face before going out to help him. Maybe if he could sell something else really expensive, he would be off the hook. For that matter, if he wanted something really expensive, maybe Richie could pad the selling amount. That would help make up the difference. But somehow he didn't see Duncan being happy about that, either.

The customer left without buying a single thing, leaving behind a disappointed Richie. To make matters worse, Duncan had come home in the meantime and the Scot was already in the office looking through the day's receipts. Deciding that staying out of the way was the best option, Richie busied himself rearranging shelves that didn't need arranging.

"Richie, will you come in here, please."

The sound of the Highlander's voice sent a feeling of doom through Richie. It was pretty obvious that Duncan had found the mistake and wasn't happy about it. With great reluctance, the teenager headed for the office.

Duncan held out the sales slip. "Do you want to explain this?"

"It was a mistake, Mac. An honest mistake. I'm sorry. I read the price wrong from the computer and made a mistake. I'm sorry. I'll make it up."

Duncan leaned back in his chair, his face expressionless and stared at Richie. "How will you make up $1800?"

"I'll... I'll sell my bike... and my CDs... and you won't have to pay me any salary until it's paid back. And I'll... I'll buy all my own food-just think how much you can save on grocery bills!"

Duncan's eyebrows shot up for a moment at the last item. "That's true," he murmured. "It wouldn't take very long at all to pay back that amount. You do seem to consume quite a bit of food around here."

Richie felt his heart sink. Surely Duncan wasn't serious? He'd been pretty sure the Scot would not take him up on that offer when he'd made it. He would starve-he was certain of that.

"Duncan, you can't be serious," Tessa's voice intruded on their conversation. She'd come into the office without them realizing it. "You wouldn't deprive Richie of food, just because he made a little mistake?"

Duncan smiled at her. "Of course not. But the look on his face when he thought I would was priceless. It almost makes up for the loss." He turned to face Richie again. "Almost."

"Just tell me what you want me to do, Mac," Richie said. "I can sell my bike-it shouldn't take too long. And you can fire me if you want."

"Firing you wouldn't solve anything," Duncan replied sarcastically. "I wouldn't have any way of getting my money back if I did that." He reached for a pad of paper and started to scribble some figures down.

Richie didn't know what to do or say. Duncan made it sound like he would have fired him. Would he be out of a job just as soon as he paid the money back?

"Here's what we'll do," Duncan said, interrupting Richie's thoughts. "I only paid $500 for the painting. You can make up the difference between that and what you sold it for. That's $300. I'll deduct $25 from your paycheck each week. You'll be square at the end of three months that way. How does that sound?"

Richie couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "You mean you don't want me to sell my bike?"

"Not unless you want to. Do we have a deal?"

"Sure, Mac." Richie couldn't believe how lucky he'd been. There was just one little point he wanted to clear up. "And I'll still have a job after I finish paying you back?" He held his breath while he waited for an answer.

"Will you ever make this kind of mistake again?"

"No, sir! Absolutely not! I'll double-no, triple-check every price from now on. In fact, I'll memorize every price in the place. You can count on me. I never make the same mistake twice."

"Well, then you'll still have a job when you finish paying back the money. And just to be sure you remember this little lesson, I also think you shouldn't have any dessert for a week."

"A week!" Richie pasted a horrified expression on his face. Things were back to normal, so he felt like he should put up some protest. "That's cruel, Mac. How about one night-no dessert for one night."

"A week."

Richie turned to Tessa who appeared to be trying to keep a smile off her face. "Tessa, you gotta help me out here. I'm a growing boy. I need my dessert-otherwise I'll starve. I'm counting on you. You *always* stopped Mac from punishing me so harshly."

"Always?" Tessa asked, one eyebrow raising in inquiry.

Richie nodded. "Always. I know you can't remember but you would have never let him do this to me."

Tessa looked back and forth between the two men. "Duncan, I think you are wrong about how long he should have to skip dessert." She let a long pause fill the room, before continuing. "I think it should be *two* weeks." With that, she turned and left the office.

"Tessa!" Richie's protest followed her from the room as well as the sound of Duncan's laughter.

* HL * HL *

Tessa headed back to the living area, and settled down on the couch. There had been something about the scene in the office that had seemed so familiar. Richie being called to task for some wrongdoing. The banter between the three of them at the end. For the first time since she'd lost her memory, she had felt like she was home.

Maybe it was time to start trusting Duncan and Richie. They really hadn't given her any reason not to. Sure, there had been that overheard conversation, but Duncan had shown her over and over that he wasn't a bad guy.

While she might think that Duncan's decision to make Richie pay back the money was a little harsh, he could have done so much more. He could have fired the teenager, or demanded that he sell his motorcycle. And it wasn't as if Richie had to pay back the whole amount.

She still couldn't decide what to think about Richie's wild tales of Immortals who chopped people's heads off. The teenager had seemed so earnest when he'd told her about Duncan, but it still seemed unbelievable. How could someone live to be 400 years old?

Tessa jumped when someone sat down next to her. She hadn't heard Duncan come in or cross the room.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you. How's your headache?"

"It's all gone. Either the pills or the rest took care of it." Tessa paused for a moment, then added, "I'm glad you didn't fire Richie."

"It wasn't even an option. It was a mistake-and I don't think he'll make that one again. Once he's finished paying off his 'debt', then we'll buy him something with the money as a reward. You'll have to help me come up with something good."

Tessa stared at the Scot in amazement. "But that means you'll lose money on that painting."

Duncan shrugged. "I can afford it. Richie will have to watch his spending money very closely for the next three months. If he manages to do that, then I think he'll deserve a treat."

"You are a very nice person," Tessa said with a smile.

Duncan smiled back for a moment before turning serious. "Richie said he told you all about me-about who I am."

"Well, he told me some fantastic story about you being Immortal and 400 years old. And that you run around chopping people's heads off."

"You don't sound like you believe him," Duncan pointed out calmly.

"Would you believe him? Oh, I don't mean that no one would ever believe anything he says, but this is just a bit extreme."

"You're right, it is extreme." Duncan stood up and walked over to the kitchen area.

"Are you saying it isn't true, then?" Tessa called after him.

He didn't answer. Instead, he retrieved a large knife and a towel from a drawer and returned to her side. He sat down next to her again, the knife resting lightly in one hand. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he started in a serious tone. "I was born in the Highlands of Scotland over 400 years ago. I am immortal. I cannot die."

Without another word, he quickly drew the knife across his palm, cutting deeply into his skin.

Tessa gasped in shock, then reached for his hand. "Duncan, why did you do that? We have to take you to the hospital. You will need stitches."

"No, I won't." He pulled back his hand and wiped it on the towel. He turned it so she could see his palm.

For a moment, Tessa saw a brief flicker of light, then she realized that his hand was healed. She turned startled eyes to face him. "It's true, then? You are...?"

"Immortal?" he finished for her. "Yes, it's true."

Tessa felt her headache burst back, full force. She jumped to her feet and started pacing around. Finally, she turned to face Duncan. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I know this must be hard for you to accept on top of everything else. I'm sure the doctor didn't have these kinds of revelations in mind when he prescribed rest and no stress."

Tessa had to laugh at that, despite the headache that was making it difficult to concentrate. "No, this day hasn't exactly been stress-free." A part of her wondered if her amnesia wasn't really caused by her head injury. "How did I handle you being an Immortal? Did I accept it?"

Duncan shrugged. "You accepted it at first-better than I ever thought you would. You were more concerned with how alone I was, watching my friends grow old and die, than you were with how it affected you. Of course, I really hadn't told you the whole thing-like the fact that I could be challenged by other Immortals and might die. Then one night, a few months ago, Slan Quince literally dropped into our lives and brought it all out in the open. Things got a little tense after that. I even tried to leave you when I realized how difficult it was for you to accept that I had to fight other Immortals, but you followed me and convinced me to stay. I know it hasn't been easy for you, but you were handling it."

"Was there anything else I couldn't handle? Something else that might have made me want to forget my life?"

Duncan gave her a startled look, as he stood up and moved closer to her. "Is that what you think? That your amnesia was caused by wanting to forget anything? Is that what the doctor told you?"

"It's a possibility." She was afraid it was a strong possibility.

Duncan sighed. "I wish I could say there hasn't been anything, but I'd be lying. Lately, it seems like everything has been piling up. You were kidnapped by an Immortal who wanted you as his woman. He dragged you through the wilderness until I managed to rescue you. Then I disappeared and was framed for murder by a doctor who found out I healed faster than normal-he wanted to experiment on me. Then Richie brought home an old girlfriend who was involved in a drug deal. We'd no sooner gotten past that, when another Immortal kidnapped Richie, and sent you a dress-that you thought was from me-laden with a chemical that burned your skin when you put it on. Your best friend almost died at the hands of a serial killer, and you had to run him over with our car to save Richie from him."

Tessa gasped. "Did I kill him?"

"No, you didn't, but it was still very traumatic. I wouldn't blame you for trying to forget all that."

Tessa rubbed at her forehead. The headache was growing even worse.

"What's wrong? Is your headache back?"

She nodded, and he hurried over to the kitchen, returning with her pills and some water.

"Take some more medication, then I think you should rest for a while. We can talk later."

Tessa didn't bother to argue. Right now, it sounded like the sensible thing to do.

* HL * HL *

When Tessa woke, the living room was dark. What little light there was came from her workshop area. She slowly stood up and stretched, feeling her muscles protest at the movement. At least her headache had gone away again.

She wandered across the room, deciding to see if someone was in her workshop. What she saw sent her heart pounding. Duncan was in the middle of the room, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. Sweat glistened on his upper body as he slowly worked through an intricate dance that combined martial arts moves and swordwork.

Tessa couldn't help moving closer, entranced by the picture he presented. Muscles rippled as he moved, and she felt an irresistible urge to run her hands over Duncan's chest and arms. Somehow, she knew she'd done that before.

She must have made some kind of noise, because Duncan stopped a move in mid-thrust. He smiled at her. "Tessa, you're awake. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes." She moved closer, wanting to feel those strong arms surround her, but not knowing how to tell him since she'd made such a point against any contact throughout the day. "Where is Richie?" she asked, trying to distract her thoughts.

Duncan moved closer, too. "He went out with some friends. Are you hungry? I can fix us something to eat."

Tessa licked her lips. She was hungry, but it wasn't food that she wanted. She watched as a bead of sweat rolled down his chest. It took all her effort to lift her eyes back up to meet Duncan's. The hungry look in them caused warmth to flood through her body.

"Tessa?" Duncan's voice sounded husky.

"Hold me," she pleaded, starting to shiver.

Without another word, his strong arms wrapped around her. It felt so right. Why had she fought so hard against this all day?

"Do you know how hard this has been for me?" Duncan whispered. "To not be able to touch you? To not be able to hold you close? It's all I've wanted to do ever since I saw you lying in that hospital bed."

For the first time since she'd woken up in the hospital, Tessa felt safe, loved and at peace. She no longer had any doubts. She belonged here. Lifting her face, her lips sought his.

After a deep, passionate kiss, Duncan lifted her in his arms and headed for their bedroom. He gently placed her on the bed, pulling back to look at her. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," Tessa replied, raising her good arm to pull him down.

* HL * HL *

When she woke the next morning, she found Duncan watching her, his head propped up by one hand.

"Good morning," she said with a smile.

He leaned over and kissed her. "Good morning. How are you feeling today?"

"Wonderful," she murmured before returning his kiss.

With a light touch, his fingers brushed over her forehead. "The swelling has gone down a lot."

"That's good. It doesn't hurt as bad as it did before."

"Have you remembered anything?" Duncan asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Tessa searched her memories. "Still nothing," she said with a sigh. "The one thing I *am* certain of is that we belong together, and that I love you. I have no doubts about that at all."

Duncan leaned over and kissed her again. "There's one more thing that you shouldn't doubt either-I love you, too."

"I know," she replied with a smile.

"Come on," he said as he got out of bed. "I'll help you shower and shampoo your hair. We don't want to get that cast of yours wet."

* HL * HL *

Tessa felt like a pampered queen after her shower. Duncan had not only shampooed her hair, but had lovingly washed her entire body. Then he had wrapped her in a warm toweling robe and proceeded to gently comb out her hair, taking great care with every stroke.

Finally, they both got dressed and headed for the kitchen. Richie's bedroom door was closed, but Tessa could hear him moving around. Sudden embarrassment flooded through her. What would the young man think of her when he found out that she and Duncan had spent the night together, but she still didn't have her memory back?

She followed Duncan into the kitchen and started helping to prepare breakfast. While he cooked omelets, she got out place-mats, dishes and silverware to set the table. After that was done, she retrieved some muffins from the breadbox and put them in a basket before carrying it to the table.

"Morning," Richie greeted them, giving them both a big smile. "I'm glad you got your memory back, Tessa."

She felt her face turn pink with embarrassment. "I haven't got my memory back, Richie," she managed to answer, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Oh... It's just that... well... I figured that when Mac wasn't sleeping on the couch... Never mind." Richie's face had also turned pink.

Duncan didn't bother explaining. Instead, he diverted their attention by pointing out, "Tessa, you may not realize this, but maybe your memory is coming back. You set the table without ever asking where anything was kept. You went to the right cupboards and drawers each time. And you knew that there were muffins, too, without my telling you."

Tessa turned startled eyes toward Duncan before looking back at the table. "I did, didn't I? But I don't remember anything else!"

"Give it some time. The doctor said that things might come back in bits and pieces. Richie, would you get the orange juice from the refrigerator. These omelets are done."

Silence filled the room as the food was dished out, and they all settled down to eat.

Richie spoke up first. "So, what about the art show? It's only a week away. Shouldn't you postpone it until you're sure you have your memory back?"

"Oh, I don't want to do that," Tessa said as she reached for a muffin. "Besides, I bought you a new outfit to wear to it. I can't wait to see you in it."

"Oh, maaaaan... Why did you have to remember that?" Richie moaned.

Once again, Tessa's startled eyes darted toward Duncan. "I remembered something!"

"Yes, you did. My guess is that as the swelling on your forehead subsides, more and more of your memories will come back. Just don't try to force it. You seem to remember more when you aren't trying."

Tessa spent the rest of the meal, trying to remember other things, to no avail. Maybe Duncan was right. If she stopped thinking about it, maybe she would remember more.

Richie finally announced that he had to go open the store. Tessa helped Duncan clean up the table and kitchen.

"I have an idea," Duncan announced when they were done. He led her to the living room couch and almost pushed her down. "Stay right here. I'll be right back." He returned a few minutes later and dangled a bracelet in front of her face. "What is this?"

"A bracelet?" Tessa wasn't sure what he was after.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "When did you buy it?"

Tessa sighed. "I didn't buy it. You gave it to me for my last birthday, remember?"

Duncan grinned. "Yeah, and so did you."

"Oh... and you had a bottle of wine. I asked you if you liberated it from Napoleon's wine cellar, but you said it wasn't much older than I was."

"That's right." Duncan kissed her. "Be right back." He disappeared down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. It took him longer to come back this time and he was carrying two different items. Duncan sat next to her before handing her the tissue-wrapped package and setting the other item on the floor. "Open it."

She carefully peeled back the layers of fragile paper to reveal an outfit that looked like a sailor's suit, blue skirt and jacket, striped top, and a white nautical cap. It was obviously designed for a woman.

"Do you remember wearing that?"

"Oh... yes." A wistful smile filled her face. "I was wearing this when I first met you." Suddenly, she reached out and smacked his arm. "That is for arguing with me about when Notre Dame was completed!"

"But I was right," he pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. You just sat there and grinned at me while I struggled to maintain my composure." She threw her arms around him. "I remember, Duncan. I remember."

He hugged her tightly, then reached for the item on the floor. It was an old photo album. She slowly flipped through the pages, smiling as she recalled the different scenes. They were mostly pre-Duncan photos, taken while she was growing up and during her times at the Sorbonne.

"Thank you, Duncan. I feel like a real person again." She leaned over and kissed him. "It has been so awful-like I had lost myself."

"Do you remember everything now? Like the mugging?"

Tessa thought hard. "No, I don't remember the purse snatching at all. The last thing I can remember is trying on dresses to wear to the art show."

Richie suddenly burst into the room. "I've been saved!" he declared dramatically.

Duncan and Tessa exchanged confused glances before turning to face the young man.

"What do you mean?" Duncan asked.

"The guy who bought the painting yesterday just returned it. Seems his wife didn't like it. I've never been so glad to refund someone's money in my entire life!"

"That's great, Richie," Duncan said, "but I still think the 'no dessert' punishment should still stand. It'll help you remember not to make that kind of mistake in the future."

"You're a cruel man, Mac," Richie said, still smiling.

"I think you will have to change your mind about that, Duncan," Tessa interrupted. She was so happy and she wanted Richie and Duncan to feel the same way. "I want to celebrate tonight. And that includes a wonderful dessert. I wouldn't feel right if Richie couldn't share it with us."

"Aw, Tessa, we don't need to celebrate just because the guy brought the painting back. It's not that big of a deal," Richie pointed out.

"No, I want to celebrate getting my memory back," she replied.

Richie's mouth dropped open for a moment before his smile returned, even brighter than before. "You remember?"

Tessa nodded. "Even that I was supposed to be back here at noon because you had other plans. I hope I didn't ruin anything for you."

"Nah, it wasn't anything important. I'm just glad you remember. And you're right. We need a *biiiiig* celebration!" He flung his arms wide.

"Weeeell," Duncan drawled out, "I suppose since you are starting to remember again, that I should tell you what happened while you were in the hospital."

"What happened?" Tessa looked at Duncan in dismay.

Duncan stood up and moved away from the couch. "Well, when you didn't go back to pick up your car..."

"Did something happen to my car? Did someone steal the packages?"

"Noooo..." Duncan slowly responded before grinning. "But you did get four parking tickets on your car before Richie and I picked it up."

Tessa stared at the Scot for a moment before erupting. "How was I supposed to put money in the meter when I was unconscious and in the hospital?" she blurted out, standing up and starting to pace around the room, flinging her good arm around. "I didn't even have any money since my purse had been stolen. Why, I am going down to the courthouse right this minute and tell the judge that I won't pay them."

"You do remember what happened the last time you went to the courthouse?" Duncan asked, interrupting her spiel.

"I remember," Richie pointed out. "Count me out!" He quickly vanished toward the store.

"Yes, I remember. And this time you can come inside with me." She turned to glare at him. "Well, don't just stand there! I want to get this cleared up right away."

Duncan just grinned before retrieving his car keys. Things were getting back to normal around here.

The end.


End file.
